Becoming a Wizard by Starting From the Mind Closure Technique-Chapter 971 - 80 Cutting Ties

Chapter 971: Chapter 80: Cutting Ties

Chapter 971 -80: Cutting Ties

Link did not respond, simply looking up at the three great suns in the sky.

For now, he had accomplished certain things he set out to do to a certain extent.

Whether he could continue was not a matter of the firmness of his will, but rather if the three great suns above paid attention, or allowed it.

As a reincarnation of a Saint, Lotson certainly knew how formidable the power of a Saint’s rank could be.

One could say that there was almost nothing a Saint-ranked being wanted to do and could not achieve.

Within the remnants of the Buddhist Civilization, as long as the three great suns overhead wished it, nothing could escape Their notice.

Although theoretically, the three great suns should not interfere with the debates and the tide of enlightenment stirred up by Link.

Yet, if they could not openly declare Link as a demonic Buddha or a monster, they could still hint at and guide their subordinates to do certain things.

For example…

In the capital of the Song Country, Bianjing, at Ci’en Temple.

Monk Nengqing, who had been confined for over a month, welcomed a visitor.

“Disciple Nengqing pays respects to the great uncle master.”

In the dimly-lit secluded grotto, Nengqing, barely seeing the visitor’s face by the faint light, quickly got up to greet him.

“Mmm.”

The visitor responded indifferently.

Without any visible gesture, the secluded grotto suddenly brightened up greatly.

The darkness was dispelled, the dampness was dispelled, and much of the gloom in Nengqing’s heart was also dispelled.

The visitor stood amid the light, resembling a halo of a great sun floating behind his head, with a dignified and noble presence.

“Disciple Nengqing pays respects to Bodhisattva Pusar CiHang.”

With proper attire and solemn demeanor, Nengqing gave a reverent and formal bow.

“Rise.”

Bodhisattva Pusar CiHang raised his right hand, forming a fearless seal, and his left hand hung down, forming a wish-granting seal, embodying great compassion, like a true Buddha in this world.

Monk Nengqing was deeply moved, feeling that his month-long confinement was not in vain.

He was right.

Monk Liao Fan of the White Horse Zen Institution was indeed a demonic Buddha!

The philosophies promoted by Monk Liao Fan were demonic speech, the Evil Path.

Otherwise, why would Bodhisattva Pusar CiHang, the one in Ci’en Temple with the greatest hope of traversing the void and becoming a great sun, come to see him?

“Go.”

Bodhisattva Pusar CiHang did not say much, merely instructing lightly.

An endless radiance wondrously sprang forth from Bodhisattva Pusar CiHang’s brow, shining upon Monk Nengqing, cleansing away all the shadows within him.

At that moment, Monk Nengqing felt he had entered the Buddha’s realm.

He couldn’t help but be overjoyed, assuming the full lotus position and smiling serenely.

This wondrous state lasted an indeterminable amount of time.

When Monk Nengqing regained his senses, and he felt his cultivation realm had leapt to the pinnacle of an Arhat, with the prospect of ascending to Bodhisattva at any time, Bodhisattva Pusar CiHang, who had come to enlighten him, had already disappeared.

The light remained as bright as ever in the grotto where he had been confined.

Monk Nengqing grasped the meaning, rose from the ground, and walked out of the grotto without looking back.

Because he did not look back, Nengqing’s eyes saw only the light ahead, and he failed to notice that the grotto behind him had returned to darkness.

Within the darkness, there seemed to be shadows fluttering, and rustling noises emerged in succession.

It was as if invisible, intangible entities were discussing, mocking, laughing, and guffawing in triumph…

Monk Nengqing left the confinement grotto and did not hide his tracks; he walked openly into Ci’en Temple.

All the monks of the temple, from the Abbot down to the newly initiated Sramanera, turned a blind eye.

They neither obstructed him nor offered support.

Silence.

Just silence.

In the midst of silence, Monk Nengqing walked out of Ci’en Temple, headed towards the Dusty World to seek and subdue demons.

Link, who was playing the role of an ascetic monk practicing the Bodhisattva Dharma, suddenly felt a premonition of fate.

“It has come.”

He murmured softly, then disregarded it, continuing to walk on his own, to do good on his own, to follow the Way on his own.

“It has come!”

Frist, with a large hole punctured through his chest, weakly said to Medici, who had lost his left lower leg, his voice faint and breath as thin as silk.

“Worth it!”

Leaning against a pillar of the broken temple gate, Medici was pale and weak, barely breathing in but exhaling weakly.

For nearly two months, Frist and Medici had fought on many fronts.

One day punishing the licentious monks here, the next day burning down the exploitative temples there, and the day after striking unpredictably at a different location…

The situation in this World deteriorated rapidly under Frist’s and Medici’s unbridled actions, as conflicts ignited everywhere and turmoil was unceasing.

As the origin of the upheaval, Frist and Medici faced the most severe suppression.

That they had managed to struggle on for nearly two months was already the limit of what Frist and Medici could achieve.

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After all, this was the home ground of the remnants of the Buddhist Civilization; they had neither the right time nor the geographical advantage.

As for human unity, it was a tentative fifty-fifty.

The vested interests benefiting from the Buddhist Sect certainly detested Frist and Medici, the two ring-leaders of the chaos.

The oppressed and exploited lower classes, yearning to help Frist and Medici, were willing but powerless.

Besides, their own strength was very limited.

Thus, Frist and Medici finally found themselves at a dead end.

No way up to heaven, no door into the earth.

Before long, a total of six Bodhisattvas (Great Sages) had Frist and Medici completely surrounded.

There were no superfluous words.

The Buddhist Sect would not consider persuasion or capture alive; Frist and Medici knew their fate but refused to wait for death helplessly.

A fiercely intense battle suddenly erupted.